Bells signal the Beginning. Torture. The weather understands- Gloomy clouds A dark and grey world. Rain drips off the bars that fence us in. One hour, Two, Wrists in agony, Being shaken out, Trying to buy relief. Pens and pencils scratch the paper, Furiously its crossed out again, Frantically trying to finish. Schools out for most, Playground deserted. Cleaner’s keys jangle, “Pen’s Down”
Bells signal the End.